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Hill Farmstead: Twilight Of The Idols

This beer’s in the witness protection program. Not really. I’m just running out of cool beer glasses and am now altering every image of the same black stout over and over again to look slightly different from each other, hence the extra blackness. Based on this sad truth, you might be noticing a trend of the kinds of beers I’ll review. Well, as it turns out, my palate’s kinda shitty, leaving me one very unqualified beer writer. Some beers (most beers) I have no idea how to “review.” To me, they just taste like soda that over time my mind has tricked me into thinking contains some magical fun stress relief prize at the bottom of every glass. I know, the A-word.

This one, however, leaves me with the redeeming feeling of having truly unique perceptive ability; simply the result of my using more than one sense to detect more than just hops or chocolate. Whatever it is they’re adding (paint thinner? paint thinner?!) it’s doing the fuckin’ trick. The appearance alone has an odd color gradient of cream to cappuccino in its head shifting inward out you can use for your first descriptive sentence. Black color with a dark brown hue at the edge, looks like Coke. Man, this is easy!

Taste: Definite vanilla, brown sugar, a little raisin, more of that Rolo at the end along with bitterness.

Mouthfeel: Very carbonated at the beginning but then you just shake the shit out of it. Coats the back of your throat with a gumminess similar to peanut butter.

OK, so I guess that’s a review. But then where’s the fun in just listing off descriptors redundantly? Why not preamble some anxiety to shore up the confidence to really shake down that beer let alone be honest with yourself over whether the maltball plural you smelled should have ended with an ‘s’ or a ‘z’? Who gives a shit about what your tongue’s thinking?